


Dawn

by MaladaptiveNinjaReturns



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Kissing, Kissing, Mild Smut, Muscles, Neck Kissing, Rough Kissing, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns/pseuds/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns
Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 32
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"I think insulting your father in front of thousands of his Hydra henchmen is still on top."

The most anxious day of your life and Anthony Edward Stark still makes you feel at ease.

The reflection in the mirror in front of you is of a timid woman with not an ounce of beauty to her name but for the title that comes with her unworthy blood. At least that is what you think.

Tony can read it in those eyes that are still carrying the lost sleep from many nights gone.

"The Asgardians have no idea how lucky they are to have you. And your father was an idiot for giving you away."

He takes the golden chains from your hands that you're unable to lock at the back to do it for you. "But then again, if it weren't for you, we would have never won the war."

You mock a laugh. "Oh, come on, Mr Stark. I'm a freaking ball that was played by earth and Asgard's most unhinged boomers."

The clasp on the chain shuts and Tony's brows go up. "I could not have said it better. Odin does seem like he should chill out more."

"Right?"

You both chuckle and Tony presses away creases on your shoulder before catching your gaze in the mirror.

"You do know you don't have to go through this, Y/N. You just have to say the word and every one of us out there will fight those golden bastards for you."

Your lips stretch in an involuntary smile that fills your heart to the brim and you feel your eyes get wet for the man who has been more of a father to you than your own blood and bones. "You know that is  _ exactly  _ the reason I said yes to the wedding, right? I don't want any more bloodshed. Let's just take it as me repenting for my father's sins and call it a day. Although I'm glad this peace offering didn't come with shady terms like the Asgardians ruling earth or something."

Tony blinks and looks into some unknown void. "Hm." Some afterthought later he looks down at you adjusting a flower in his jacket's pocket, patting and jumping a little in excitement at how great he looked. "Maybe Odin wants to give one of his disappointments some responsibilities or something. To keep him busy, you know."

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, giving yourself one final look in the mirror before picking up the bouquet of Asgardian orchids- the golden flowers in full bloom.

"But honestly though, if he does something you don't like, you have to tell me. Or anyone of us. Nat! Yes, she will take care of him for you on the down-low. It'll be so quiet even he won't know what hit him."

You twirl around towards Tony, making him question the whole event once more. He could not let this happen to you. No. You deserved better. So much better than some egotistical maniac of a God who once wanted to rule your planet.

"Ready to walk me down the aisle?" You ask him with stars in your eyes.

"No?" He replies with clouds of doubt lingering over him.

"Tony."

"Okay, fine. But I am going to sulk about this throughout the wedding."

.

The great halls of the palace have been decorated with flora of all hues. Civilians have gathered outside to witness the wedding of their Prince. The old ones are curious about who would marry the adopted child. The young ones make merry, rejoicing their Prince has finally found love and the kingdom can once again celebrate after what seems like aeons. The guards have been doubled and the groom's brother is all over the place, running around to make sure everything is in order. It is only when Sif rolls her eyes and audibly groans before dragging Thor by his arms outside his brother's chambers does he stop.  _ Be with your brother _ , he is ordered before she takes off to cover for him, leaving him to discover what he's been dreading all this week- what is Loki going to feel about this.

It surprises him when it does not take much to open the door and find his brother dressed in his most exquisite armour for the occasion. The gold glitters under the sun rays falling through the windows and balcony and the cape flutters luxuriously reminding every witness that none could carry one as Loki did.

Thor wonders how much of his mother's poise he sees in Loki while he stands overlooking Asgard. His eyes are taking in each and every living pixel while his hands are trying to scratch the nervousness off each other.

_ Mother would have loved to watch him start this new chapter today _ , Thor wonders gleefully on the inside.

Maybe it's the reluctant thought of their mother that travels unspoken across the room and makes the other brother turn around.

"Let's get this over with," Loki announces, walking towards the door.

_ Well, clearly not what I was hoping for _ , Thor muses, following his brother out.

"How are you feeling brother?" He has to ask.

"Like I might puke my insides any moment."

_ Vivid _ .

"Is there anything I can bring you that might ease your stomach?"  _ I mean a brother can try, right? _

"Oh yes, of course! Bring a very rare herb called common sense and feed it to your father. He seems to be suffering from this particular deficiency."

"Okay, Loki, that's a bit-"

"Say it's a bit on the nose and I will punch you in the face right now, Thor. I'm being married against my will to an earthling against  _ her  _ will. Father might be a professional matchmaker in his days but I am not one of his pawns to be used in some peace treaty like this."

Thor sighs because that is all he can do right now. No matter how much tries to defend the Allfather, the fact remains that two people are being brought together without much room for their thoughts and opinions. “Weren’t you the one to bring forth the idea of peace with the one planet that father has not tried to conquer and the one that still considers us friends? It is all for the better. And Y/N is an amazing woman. I am sure she would make a wonderful partner-”

“The peace holds because you are known to their heroes, Thor. And if peace is the subject let’s just marry you with Y/N, why don’t we?”

Thor mocks a muted laugh but Loki does not stir, staring at his blond brother with a piercing gaze that finally makes the former shift his weight uncomfortably between his legs. “That’s what I thought. Keep trying to defend the Allfather unless he stands against what you desire. You do realise this was the very reason I tried to stop you from becoming king in the first place at that time.”

Before he can get a word in- or at least try to think of one- Loki has already moved past the great doors to be welcomed by a crowd of royals gathered in the hall at one side and Y/N’s family on the other.

He knows. He knows deep within his heart that the royals are here just to witness what drama goes down this time, what does the bastard of Odin do this time to wreck chaos midst these celebrations. The other side? They are here to make sure they have his bones if Y/N says the word.  _ So, it’s just another day in my life _ . But he has to admit to himself how he envies you for having a cavalry of the galaxy’s most lethal beings protecting you without so much as a word. What is this camaraderie exactly? A strategic alliance? A well-put band of the unfit?

_ It’s love, my dear. _

It is not hard to miss Friga’s words fluttering inside once he climbs the stairs to stand by Odin’s side.  _ Love _ , Loki mocks a laugh,  _ it does make you do mad things _ . He is not paying attention to the grand speech Odin is giving, and for once he can relate to a yawning Clint in the front. All he wants is for this charade to end once and for all. So much that he might actually be happy if Y/N says no at the very last minute.  _ Would save both of us some very awkward lifetimes ahead _ .

The great doors open again. Everyone rises from their seats to welcome the bride. Loki isn’t even interested in looking that way till the sun is reflected in his eyes from the veil that covers your face. And that is the first time he looks at you.

There is the strangest flutter inside his gut to witness his colours on someone else; on you. The armour in a matching shade of gold adorns your shoulders and arms. Gold chains have the honour of covering your chest and back, curving down from behind to the plates on your waist. Green of the gown dazzles like the galaxy moving around your existence, snug all around your curves. A Goddess walks on the land of Asgard. And every single soul is in awe.

Loki blinks under the light of the suns. The air seems to leave his lungs and time slows down. Everything fades away; except for the woman that walks towards him in arms with earth’s protector. His mind is questioning whether she is a mere human while his heart is trying to figure out the pressing sensation it is feeling.

“Lady Y/N, daughter of...under the care of the house of Stark,” Odin announces to the crowd, breaking Loki out the trance whilst he watches you climb the steps with Stark, come to stand by his side and give the man a kiss before he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving your face, waiting for a single line of doubt to take you away from all of this.

_ Well, one of the father figures understands. _

“Time for the union,” Odin declares to the two of you.

You turn towards Loki, your heart beating in your ears as you watch your future husband for what seems like the rest of eternity through the veil. Even though you have been trying to convince everyone that it’s the right thing to do, your panicking heart seems to be having doubts of its own.

_ Breathe! Breathe, breathe, breathe, Y/N. Just breathe, please. _

“Unveil her, Loki,” Odin softly orders the God.

You feel the heat run to your ears and neck.  _ What fuckery- _

“She will unveil herself, if she wants to, Allfather. Do not belittle her with your old traditions,” Loki points out, much to Odin’s dismay.

_ Damn right _ , Tony thinks to himself as he pauses and looks inside in disbelief for liking Loki there for a moment.

Loki does not miss your hands going to your solar plexus to wipe off the sweat before moving the veil back. The suns finally get to touch your face, that glows even when everything inside you cripples in anxiety. Y/E/C eyes meet the ocean of green looking at you with deep curiosity before you look away.

“Bring forward your hands unto each other so you may be tied by the fabric used by the first Gods to be wed under the suns and moons,” Sif requests as she holds a red fabric in her hand while her eyes travel to Thor standing at the end of the stairs.

Loki is first to bring forward his hands, patiently waiting for yours.

The hesitance is not for the ceremony as much as for the fear of him finding your drumming pulse under his touch.  _ Oh, well, I’m pretty sure he can hear it from here right now _ . And so you bring forward your hands to slide into his, feeling the heat from your palms being siphoned by his cold ones.

A chill runs throughout your body; like a feverish tingle when your stomach is on the verge of throwing its contents out. And Loki seems to sense it too. It’s really hard to ignore for him, as a matter of fact. So is the repeated rise of your chest to breathe as much as you can while undergoing a panic attack; a state he is all too familiar with.

“ _ Róaðu taugarnar á henni, gyðja styrks og umhyggju _ ,” he whispers only for you to listen and still it does not make sense till you can feel an ascended calm run from your hands to the rest of your body, bringing the chaos to a standstill.

_ How did he- _

The removal of clouds of anxiety seems to suddenly clear your vision and you watch the God holding you in a new light. His eyes are soft towards you, his touch careful and light. His head bows a little and his body is still as a boulder. _ If only I had a backbone like him _ , you wonder when Sif wraps the red around your hands, binding them together neatly with a bow on top.

“Time for your vows,” she whispers to the both of you with a smile before taking a step back.

You look at her and watch the face of a friend before your eyes come back to rest on the red fabric. So much power resides in this little piece of cloth.

“Under the stars of Valhalla,” Loki begins, bringing your eyes up from the fabric to his face like an involuntary reflex, “I take thee, Y/N, as my wife, if you shall have me. I vow to protect you and be by your side in life...and death.”

_...okay...that was...okay. _

You clear your throat as discreetly as possible, taking in one long breath before looking back at right into Loki’s eyes. “U-under the stars of Valhalla, I take thee, Loki, as my husband, if you shall have me. I-I vow to protect you and be by your side in life. And...and death.”

No sooner are the words said than the fabric starts to glow with a blinding light, turning into butterflies made purely of light and flying to the skies, marking the bond witnessed by the heavens old and new.

.

"If you need anything, your handmaidens will be a call away."

There is comfort in Sid's gentle smile. If only you could ask her to stay. But that's not usually how the night goes.

"Take care of her, brother," Thor comments before a strong pat comes for Loki's back and the God rolls his eyes.

You know Thor means well but those words in no way bring comfort to you as the doors to Loki's room opens and are shut behind the two of you.

Silence marks the first few seconds of being alone in a room for the first time. Well, not first really. There was that time when the two of you had to fight your way out of the Hydra's facility.

"Nice colour theme," you finally say out loud standing by the door, awkwardly swinging on your toes while holding a fur coat given to you when you were shivering at dinner.

Loki takes his helmet off and your eyes follow the raven strands of hair flowing in the night breeze dancing in from the windows and open balcony.  _ How does he have such lush growth? Maybe it’s the water of Asgard. _

The helmet rests on the table with a soft thud. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he states, already undoing his armour.

“Oh, no,” you press, taking a step towards him, “please, you don’t have to get uncomfortable in your own room on my account. I’ll take the couch. It looks more comfortable than my bed anyway. So…yeah. Um...where can I change?”

Loki blinks and turns his gaze towards an archway by the end of the wall. “That’s...the bathroom. Everything has been arranged for you in there.”

You nod even though Loki has already gotten busy with undoing what remains of his armour while you start on undoing yours. The bracelets come off first, then the earrings. But the worst is the clasps of chains choking you from your neck down your back.  _ I should have asked Tony how he did it, dammit _ . No matter how much your hands try they just don’t seem to find the stupid openings anywhere.

“Allow me,” comes the voice from behind you, startling your already tensed nerves. And as if that isn’t enough, the touch of his cold fingers on your neck seems to fire up whatever nerve endings still seem to be working. Every undoing is soft and careful, always ending with a click. You can feel your hairs rise in anticipation of this foreign touch, goosebumps all over your back that you are pretty sure Loki can notice. You have to stop breathing in order to keep the shiver in check. It's only when your neck feels light once the last of the gold is removed do you take a lungful, catching the odd piece of jewellery in your hand, thanking Loki and hastily making your way to the doorless bathroom with a wooden partition made of intricate carvings as the only thing blocking the view on either side.

When you come out Loki has already changed into a loose black shirt over black pyjamas for the night, ready to take the couch. "I said I'll take the c-"

The creak followed by a crash drowns your words and makes you smack your hand on your mouth. The sofa lies in ruins on the floors, the legs done away with while the arms rests have fallen flat. And the thought of Loki almost sitting down on it fills you with the guilt of having the thought of laughing out loud at the scene.

"Oh, God. You okay?" You have to ask, partly because you did see him rise up safely thanks to his wonderful reflexes but mainly because the pressing jaw tells you somebody might die tomorrow morning.

"I'll have one of the servants clean this up," is all he says.

Servants. Ruined couch. Wedding night. That cannot go right in any way imaginable. Not at least for your overthinking mind.

"No, that's okay. We can share the bed," you blurt out, not wanting any outside attention, "i-if that's okay with you."

And so, both of you lie down on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what odd decisions did you have to make to get you here. Even though the space over the bed is surprisingly a lot, the senses just cannot help but notice the other one's tiniest movements, every breath, every gulp and every sigh in the silent night.

"I'm sorry," you finally manage to say softly, still staring at the ceiling while your fingernails gnaw at each other. "That you were dragged into all of...this. I really thought the whole gist of a wedding between two kingdoms was over on my planet."

Silence resumes and as the seconds pass you feel a shot embarrassment rise in your throat for saying that.  _ Clearly Loki is not interested in hearing any of this, you moron. He's a God married to a dumb mortal. This must be the worst day of his- _

"Don't apologize for the mindless traditions of old men, dear. We are just pawns in their quest for power."

Weight of the words aside, there is something really soothing about Loki's voice mixing with the sweet cold of the night.

"All of this could have been avoided if Odin took his word back and let you live as you wished, no matter what your father promised."

You agree in a hum, bringing the duvet closer to your chest.

"But I presume you thought it better to avoid blood and take it as it was presented to you."

The words in that honey laden voice seem to travel over your exposed skin like a feather.

"Yeah. Yes. It would have been the better option but I could not stand to watch my friends and family suffer anymore. Tony deserves to rest and live a happy life with his family. Steve and Bucky are finally getting around to find their love for each other. Natasha has settled down with Maria and Clint can finally stay with his family. The battle had already taken a toll on them. I would have rather killed myself than make them put their life on the line again for the whole...planet I guess."

You do not notice but Loki has turned his head to look at you, to notice the quick blink of your eyes, the tug of your fingers on the edge of the duvet, the lick of your lips before biting on them hard.

"Well-" you clear your throat, scratching your forehead for some invisible itch- "I'm human. So, I'm supposed to make the dumbest decisions. But I cannot imagine how you must be feeling mixed in all of this. I'm sure this is the last thing you wanted for yourself in exchange for some reduced sentence. T-that's what Thor told me."

You turn to look at him and are caught off guard by the moons shining in on the pair of greens looking at you with utmost interest. And once you lock your gaze with them, it's hard to let go. Swimming in the springs in a forest under a full moon night while the world sleeps, that's what his gaze feels like. Why wouldn't it; they seem to be touching you in crevices untouched and unbared.

He continues to watch you and sigh. "To be honest I stopped putting any hope in Odin to think about me a long time ago. Nothing he does to me or for me surprises me anymore."

Your lips pucker down, letting the words sink in before you decide to turn in his direction.

"Well, I'll try to make this situation suck a little less as I can...though I highly doubt I'd be able to create much havoc here."

"Oh-" Loki feels his eyes close as a smirk lands on his face and he turns in your direction too- "trust me, darling. With me, there is no corner of this place that you cannot create havoc in."

You find yourself chuckling, letting a few seconds pass before you lick your lips and wonder whether to let out this tiny naughty piece of your mind into bed between the two of you.

The lick and the tug of your teeth at your mesmerising lips do not go unnoticed by the God; something that is soon brewing a question about why his insides are so restless at the sight of your lips having to feel the torture.  _ Curse the unknown! _ "What?"

"Hm?"

"There is something you want to say but you're not allowing yourself to."

You take a deep breath and move your head just a little closer towards him in order to whisper. "It's not that I'm not mischievous... it's just that I'm often presumed to be the embodiment of a golden child and so I've never been caught. Ever."

The slight shift in Loki's expression that elevates from seriousness to confusion calls for clarification.

"I...once laced your brother's drink with laxatives because he pissed me off."

Confusion.

Surprise.

Shock.

"Y/N Y/L/N," Loki nearly gasps, feeling his head rise from the fluffy pillow, "you did  _ what _ ?"

And the night drowns with the light laughter and old stories for the mutual feeling of detest for siblings and contrast in the view of the world. Discussions went on through the timeless breeze blowing throughout the night about the worlds beyond and the things undiscovered; everything riding on a melody till one of you feel victim to the sweet sounds of slumber.

Loki's eyes are stuck on you all night, watching the serenity washing over your face as all worries seem to fall away while you let yourself drift in peace. Beautiful seems to be an understatement according to the God.

_ Even though she's an immortal, she does not deserve to be tied to me for eternity. That's a fate too cruel. _

But something inside him does not want these words to be true; a gentle tug to his heartstrings by you, that seems to have struck a chord he cannot stop playing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Is it really necessary to do this? _All_ of this?"

"It's a custom created by the Allfather, your grace," answers the handmaiden that helps you into the soft gold of a dress that seems to be way too over the top for something as simple as breakfast.

"Your Allfather needs to get laid," you whisper loud enough for her to hear and turn red.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?"

You whine as you watch yourself in the gigantic mirror in the bathroom. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

She picks up your clothes from last night and the bags that have your belongings from the earth. "Where are you going with those?"

She turns around and bows a little. "To clean them all up, your grace. The Prince said that they might have been sullied with the party they arrived."

"Loki?"

"No, your grace. Prince Thor."

"...okay? Anyway, where do you guys have lunch?"

"In the kitchen, your grace."

"Cool. I'll join you guys there."

"B-but your grace!"

"You don't have to end every sentence with your grace, Sybll. Okay?"

"...y-yes, your-"

"What?"

"...yes."

"Okay. See you later, Sybll."

You shut the door behind you, leaving the poor young handmaiden's heart pumping as she tries to make sense of what has happened.

"See you...your grace," she whispers in the empty room.

.

"Oh, no, thank you, dear," you blurt, bringing your hand up to avoid the servant from serving an entire lobster- at least that's what it looks like- to you, "no...no meat for me, please."

Odin seems to be taken aback a little by that request. And a smile is the only thing you can conjure up.

_Where. The fuck. Is everyone else?_

The large table feels a tad much for the two of you. Not mention the nausea you are feeling from overthinking about Odin's internal judgements about you.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" Odin finally asks, the half-eaten berry resting in between his fingers and thumb.

"Yes, sir, I mean, your majesty," you stutter, feeling yourself punching in the gut for screwing the first words coming out of you in front of him.

"Do you not like to eat meat, then?"

_No father-in-law, it's just that all meat comes out as vomit when I am nervous._

"I...have a sensitive stomach."

"Huh," is all he bothers to state before going back to his berry.

So all you have on your plate now is leaves and fruits sitting as the subject for an art session. 

"The gardens of the palace are beautiful, s-your majesty," you mention, remembering the flowers in full bloom you saw this morning.

"Ah, yes," he exclaims with a delight, "Frigga used to take great care of them. It is all of her hard work that blooms in those soils. Like it does in my sons."

You nod, taking a piece of watermelon and filling your mouth with it. "Mmhmm."

"You must think of me as some foolish old bastard for my way of doing things, like...like joining two worlds in a peace treaty through marriage, don't you, young lady?"

All you can do is gulp down the melon sitting unchewed in your mouth as you look at him with a blank expression.

"For an inexperienced mind like yours does not understand how crucial it is to stand united in the face of adversity."

You nod with your mouth full. "You're right. I don't. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Frigga like?"

The lines on Odin's forehead change and he is back in time to some fond memory while he moves his food around his fingers. "Frigga was gentle as the first cool breeze that soothes you at the crack of the dawn, my dear. She was my rock. She kept Asgard running even when I was not there. That too while she had two young notorious sons to take care of." He chuckles silently and looks into some distant void, letting the sun reflect on the moisture at the edge of his eye. "She loved Loki like her own son. When the world saw a monster in him, she saw an innocent soul that needed the love and care of a mother. She taught him all the magic she knew. She had a way with him, with his mind that was always in a different direction than the rest of us. Whether she knew him or not, she did her best to make him a better version of himself."

"Would she have agreed to this truce?"

The words are out sooner than you realise and Odin is out of the trance he was a while back, the eye losing its hues.

"My sons will do what I say, woman. They are the pride of Asgard. The reflection of what expanded my kingdom and its peace stands for. And Frigga would have agreed with me. With whatever decision I took."

The words crawl over your shoulders like ants. Your nails are scraping the edges of the pie crust as silence seems to erode any feelings of respect between the two of you.

"I bet he is your reflection as well, Loki-" you stress on his name with a tilt of his head- "I bet he was your reflection that day too when he was a child and you told him he was no good as a warrior and he'd rather go hide in his mother's skirt."

The clatter of fork and knives stops. So does the breath of every servant present in the vicinity, discreetly looking at their Allfather for any reaction.

"He was your reflection when the boys from the streets teased him for being so weak for a Prince. And when he could not take the insult anymore, he used his magic to teach them proper manners. Hm?"

You pick up the chalice of wine kept for you, squeezing an orange into it before taking a generous sip. "He was also your reflection the day Thor was to be crowned king-" you smacked your lips, keeping the chalice down with a thud- "and the day he let the wormhole swallow him?"

The air is heavy. Heavier than any third person can take.

"You might be sitting in a seat of privilege, woman, but do not forget you are speaking to your king." His tone is soft but the intended weight with which they flow is not.

"Yes. I do realise my place, my king. I am but a mere human tied to a son you deem unworthy of serving any purpose to you. But here's the thing, your highness-" you look Odin in the eye, your face losing every feeling- "I am not Frigga, Gods rest her soul."

The napkin resting on your lap is crumpled in your hand before being left on the plate as you get up, dragging your chair back and turning around to collide with the servant coming with a pitcher of wine.

His apologies are cut short by you, assuring him it's no big deal before turning back to the Allfather. "It was a good talk, your majesty," you state with a full-blown bow.

"Oh and one more thing! Loki does not have some different brains that you cannot figure out. He just thinks seven steps ahead of everyone else. I found out through observation. And the one time we both had to escape being killed. You should try it sometimes too."

And with that declaration, you walk out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence with an audience and a King sitting with heartburn.

.

_FUCK!_

_FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DOOOOO!!!!!_

Your steps cannot match your heart rate at this point as you try to make your way back to Loki's room. And the constant flashbacks to the conversation you just had do not help. At all. If only the ground would crack open and swallow you right now.

_You really need to keep your issues with controlling fathers in check, woman!_

_Well, TOO LATE!_ you yell back at your inner voice.

The corridors are a blur. So are the voices of people asking you if you're okay.

_You didn't have to defend him like that._

You try to shove your inner voice away.

_What do you even know about him?_

You can finally see the door to your sanctuary, and your steps get faster than they already are.

_What is Odin going to do to you now?_

Opening the door, you throw yourself inside before shutting it back and letting the whimpers of weakened shallow breaths become audible.

"Okay, breathe. Breathe breathe breathe-" you take in a lungful- "yes, breathe."

Five times more and your heart finally finds a rhythm for your brain to function a bit better, bringing your attention to the wetness you feel on your stomach and realise you're still in the soiled dress with a huge blotch of wine stain colouring it in an ugly tone.

Undoing the knots around you, you walk to the bathroom to change into clean clothes and realise only when you are standing naked in there that all your clothes have been taken for a wash.

_Perfect._

Your palms are rubbed hard against your face with frustrated groans before you catch a glimpse of the black fabric lying on top of one of Loki’s drawers; the one he wore last night.

_Oh, screw it._

The cotton shirt slides over you with ease, flowing till your thighs, though the thin fabric barely covers much. With that taken care of, you walk over to the other drawers and cabinets to find anything else you can wear for the moment.

.

“Where were you two?!”

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Thor comments with a tone of sarcasm as a fuming Sif walks over to the brothers getting down from their horses.

“We went to inspect the new territories under Vanaheim. There was a little disturbance there last night,” Loki mentions as he twists and adjusts his shoulder with a muted grunt. No one notices for there are other pressing matters at hand.

“The Allfather is fuming because of your absence at breakfast today. Especially since-” she pauses to look at Loki and point out at him in general, which reasonably confuses both the brothers- “and on top of that things went downhill from here thanks to that woman.”

Now, this leads to the brothers to furrow their brows at Sif.

“Downhill how?” Thor asks.

“Spare no details,” Loki adds.

.

“This...is...hilarious.” Loki guffaws as he ends the sentence and this time Thor is the one to roll his eyes.

“It is still hard to believe Y/N would do something like this,” the blond states.

“Oh, Thor,” Loki purrs with a jump in his step, making his brother automatically uncomfortable, “it’s not that hard to believe once you realise she has lived the better part of her life with Stark. She has learned the snark from the best.”

“How do you even know what that word means?” Thor gasps in frustration. He opens his mouth to follow it up with a contradiction before pausing to run Loki’s words in his mind, hating the smirk building over his brother’s lips as realisation dawns on him.

“I need to talk to her about this-”

“WOAH! Woah! Easy brother,” Loki exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his chest, pausing the steps just outside the younger one’s room, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“What do you mean? Of course-”

“Thor-” Loki pats his brother’s chest as a gesture of patience- “first, talk to her only if you yourself have never defied your father.”

Thor looks at Loki with judgment-filled eyes, getting his brother’s index finger to wait and listen for more. “Second, talk to her with the thought that she barely has been here for a day and she has to spend the rest of her life here. Away from everything she knows.”

This, somehow, dilutes the smoke rising from the embers inside Thor. Loki isn’t wrong after all. “And third, don’t follow me inside. I am going to take a long shower.”

“Wha-”

“What? Sybll said Y/N told her she’ll join her for lunch in the kitchen. Now off you go,” he shoos his brother away with his hands before shutting his bedroom door behind him.

A chuckle leaves him involuntarily as he recalls Sif’s word by word description of how it all went down in the dining hall.

 _Good for her_ , he wonders, taking his armour off, _there will be something to keep Odin and Thor occupied._

The arm plate stops short from landing on the table with a thud as a thought stirs in Loki’s mind, slowly invading his heart through the tiniest of veins. Letting the arm plate softly rest on the table, he lets his fingers grab the back of his doublet to remove it.

 _Why did she defend_ _me_ _in front of Odin?_

The summer breeze from outside takes the first chance it gets to rub itself all over the naked chest and back of the God lost in a puzzle which isn’t that hard to solve once he has all the pieces.

_Right. Forgot she had a mad father too. What was it that Stark said we were? Two kids with daddy issues._

Shaking his head, his fingers undo the first button on his pants when he hears a soft clunk from somewhere within the room. And the relaxed cat becomes the predator within a flash.

.

_Why does he have so many greens and blacks?_

The drawers and closets in front of all have nothing but those hues. _Wait, is he colourblind?_

Grunting and stomping your feet for not finding anything you could borrow from your ‘husband’s’ clothing, you close all that is opened and start to move towards the bedroom to call for Sybll for a change of clothes when faint voices are heard outside followed by a door being shut.

It takes a lot for your heart to jump in your mouth; and right now, that lot is Loki walking in the room with a smile, undoing his armour while looking at some invisible void in the distance.

_Fuck!_

You could not go out in front of him like this. In his nightshirt that was barely covering your assets.

Hiding behind the archway next to an Oakwood drawer, you take a peek at the God lost in some thought. There is a faint smile on his unexpectedly pink lips. _What is he thinking?_ That thought runs away and hides in a corner as soon as it sees long pale fingers are pulling away the doublet from above his head to reveal a bod sculpted in some mountains of divine beauty not meant for the naked eye.

Your breath gets caught in the moment of revelation. _Wasn't he supposed to be...frail?_ At least that's what you thought when you first saw him. But now that you think about it, anyone and everyone looks frail in front of Thor. But never in your life would you have thought that all that layer of clothing hid a figure like this.

 _You won a lottery, woman_ , your inner voice nudges and winks at you before it is pushed into a dark corner. _Though I feel bad for him for getting stuck with you_ , it shouts as it fades into the darkness. The muscles on his back shift when he rolls his shoulders and you feel your insides shudder. _Does Asgard realise what they're missing under all that leather?_ Is what you question till you see marks and bruises that seem old- healed but not so thoroughly. _Hmm, everything with him has a reason, doesn't it?_

Your daylight musing seems to crack as you realise- with his back to you- he is about to open his pants.

No matter how enticing it seems to the dark corners of your brain, you draw yourself back from the archway, colliding straight into a drawer. _You IDIOT!!_

Moving on your toes, silent as a cat, your steps go backwards, past the drawers and lux bathtubs towards the balcony while your eyes stay on the archway, waiting for your heart to stop any moment that Loki showed his face through it.

One step back and you are in the balcony, your feet feeling the cold stone under them while your back collides into something equally cold and rigid. And it does not raise all those tiny hairs on your body till you can feel that cold rise and fall rise in your back.

_MOTHERF-_

The siren voice of the night sings right into your ear.

"Looking for someone?"


	3. Chapter 3

Golden and blue sparrows sit on the turret to sing the songs of the coming summer as spring dances in the fields while it still has the chance. They swirl and glide with one another before landing on the balcony, rubbing their beaks together as they witness with tilted heads the couple that stands amid the cheery wind. Y/H/C tresses are teased by those very winds, whispering sweet sins inside her ear while her hands try to wrap around her chest- partly for the cold and mostly to hide what she thinks might be visible under that breathy black fabric. You are that woman. And it is not hard to guess by even these birds that your heart rate is spiking at the moment as the bare-chested God looks down at you with those greens penetrating right through your skin while his hair is caressed by that same wind that teases you.

Your back is hot. Hot from the embarrassment and the freezing touch of his chest onto yours that is still so crisp in your mind you want to question your body’s memory. And you know yourself well enough to realise that your transparent y/e/c are already betraying you with the surprise clearly visible in them.

 _I didn’t commit a crime. No need to be scared, right?_ You try to make yourself understand.

So, clearing your throat, you straighten your back and look Loki right in the eyes.

“I spilt wine on myself.”

While you are speaking the words, your inner voice suddenly peaks out of the dark corner to yell ‘ _YOU SAW HIM GETTING NAKED_ ’ and throws your voice off balance before disappearing again.

Loki cannot help but smile at the waver in your voice as you try to act normal while wearing his shirt. _It compliments her_ , he ponders internally. Even as he watches you keep up a good facade, he cannot help but think of a little tease while licking his lips.

_Stop licking your lips, you monster!_

Loki takes a step towards you and crosses his arms over his chest, making you immediately retreat a step inside the bedroom. “So, you thought of borrowing my clothes? Shirt, to be precise.”

“Yes,” you immediately blurt out, taking another step back for his one step forward, “I mean no. I didn’t have anything to wear.”

“Nothing?”

“They took away all my clothes,” you nearly whimper before finding your gravity cowering in a dim-lit alley, alive only on shallow breaths.

“Who?” He does not stop. And he knows he is manoeuvring you right to the bed, loving this little game that is making his chest flutter with excitement.

“One of the handmaidens. Look, Loki, I’ll give you your shirt back. I’ll even wash it. I just don’t have any of my clothes tha-”

“Oh I didn’t ask for my shirt back,” he replies to your blabbering, watching your leg collide with the bed frame, making you lose balance and forcing you to sit down while he hovers over you.

“Oh,” you exclaim with confused surprise, sitting upright, trying your best to maintain your posture, “okay,” while your hands try to cover as much of the exposed thighs as they can.

“I just want to know one thing,” he states whilst bending down and planting his hands on either side of you.

All that upright backbone crumbles away as you feel the dip in the mattress on either side while your body seems to be bending back, away from him. But your soul; oh your soul seems to be attracted to the redolence coming off from his body. No matter how hard you try to look away, your eyes seem to be finding their way back to that flawless chest like magnets attracted to their opposite poles.

“W-what?” You scooch back just a little bit but his face is still close to yours and his eyes are observing that minute tremble of your lips.

“Were you...watching me get undressed?”

The bomb has exploded, rinsing all the colour from your face.

“Wha-no. No! I was not watching you-”

While your lungs try to breathe outstretched words, Loki backs away, the dip on either side of you going away with his arms as his hands land on his pants. “Because there is no need to be shy. We are married after all,” he mentions as he starts to undo the second button and you can see the curly hairs gradually easing down his belly button right before you feel yourself close your eyes and scram towards the opposite edge of the bed.

“NO! Oh my God! No, thank you! Not interested,” you announce as you make your way to the door, dash out, and shut it behind you to escape the unspoken things that had just started to take place inside your head.

You could hear Loki chuckling behind the door. “Aren’t you forgetting something, darling?!” his voice calls out from the room to make you realise you just ran out of the room in nothing but his shirt.

“Your grace.”

The greeting brings a response out of your body at the speed of lightning, making your hands go over your chest while your racoon-on-alert eyes turn to look at the source of the voice.

“YES?!” You almost shout in the faces of the handmaidens, making them jump a little at your reaction. That is when you notice the silk fabric under your hands and have to look down to see a black gown fitting your curves, exposing your shoulders but covering your arms, back and legs to their full length.

“Is...everything alright, your grace?” one of the handmaidens asks with a look of worry.

“Yeah!” you are quick to reply, the air coming back to your lungs. “Yes! Everything is perfect. I was just-” you pause, flailing your hands around to come up with something, anything- “on my way to the kitchen for lunch. Yes!”

The handmaiden smile. “Sybll informed us, your grace. Would you like us to show you the way?”

“Yes...please,” you reciprocate with a smile, walking behind them but not before turning towards the door and whispering, “I’ll get you for this, darling.”

The hairs on your ears rise and so do the ones on your back when a voice comes closer than expected, one true mixture of whispered harps and the dew of sins in the night. “I won’t expect any less.”

You jump away once again. But this time he is not behind you, neither is he in the front or on the sides, playing with you through his magic.

You want to be angry but you can’t. Instead, you are smiling wider than you did in the last three weeks, glowing with warmth on the insides, questioning this feeling inside your chest while loving it more with every passing second, nonetheless. What you do not know is something similar is happening beyond that door.

.

“Let me guess, it’s another one of Allfather’s traditions?”

Sif sighs and smirks. “I know you do not have much respect for the traditions laid down by the king-”

“Oh, I respect traditions. I just do not have a good tolerance level for hypocrisy and sexism. Sexism is when-”

“I know what it means, Y/N,” Sif nods in your direction while she tightens the belt on the horse being readied for you, “believe me, I do.”

You smile in her direction. “It hasn’t been easy for you to get where you are today, isn’t it?” You stroke the horse to make him get used to you and your touch. “And it does not get easier when you are close friends with the Prince who keeps disobeying the king and making you choose between the kingdom and your heart.”

Sif’s first reaction is to defend herself against what you claim, but the transparency in your eyes makes her pause and sigh instead. “Not everything turns out the way we want, Y/N.”

“Tell me about it,” you groan, “and I don’t know how much this means to you but I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have you by my side here amongst all this...dumb testosterone.”

Sif laughs and that eases your heart. She looks ten times prettier when she’s happy. “It is a lot to deal with for one woman. Even I am glad to have you here, Y/N.”

And without saying anything else, you both hug each other.

“ _Now_ will you tell me where we are going?”

“By the river near the white mountains. You are to collect the Nightweed seeds in this royal sieve and bring them back to the palace to plant them in the royal garden. It signifies your place at the royal court and your welcome into this land where everyone will pray for your growth and prosperity.”

Your brows rise up and you nod, taking it all in. “Sounds like a...task.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there. And so will five guards and five handmaidens,” she assures you.

“Wh-I thought I was the only...is Thor coming with us too?”

Sif guffaws and you are loving the fact that you can make this lady crack. “He wishes he could, your Grace. He really does.”

.

The full moon night is the perfect light the group travels under in a slow and languid pace, making their way towards the mountains visible beyond the thicket of trees. Conversations go back and forth throughout the journey, where you ask about this place, its history and culture and share your own with these curious minds.

“Your grace,” Sybll is already squirming with a question, “is it true that Prince Thor once fought the brave Hulk?”

“Oh,” you throw your head back, chuckling into the cold air of the night, “yes! Yes, he did, my lovelies. And to answer the question you are most curious about...he lost.”

“Ooh!” Sif shouts, “Thor is not going to spare you for this betrayal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you shove off the topic in the air before going for your satchel and taking out a sack that seems to carry something that was clinking on the inside, “we can worry about Thor later. But for now, we need to have a girl’s night. Here. Everyone, grab one.”

Sybll takes one glass bottle that fits into her palm and passes the rest to the rest of the ladies. Sif raises the bottle to the moon and knows within an instant what the little vile holds.

“What do you say, Sif?”

Sif turns to look at you as you travel side by side while the handmaidens gasp and sniff their shares. “I say you are quite probably the most chaotically lawful thing to happen to Asgard.” She raises her miniature bottle of rum and the handmaidens follow. “To the new Princess of Asgard. Salud!”

“Salud!” the forest witnesses the most mellifluous cheer that night. The party continues to travel towards their destination, not ready for what was about to follow.

.

The summon to court is no surprise for Loki. In fact, he has been waiting for it all day. But instead of a face to face proceeding to look down upon the adopted Prince, the hall witnesses a buffet table for dinner with the King sitting at the end, directing his sons to sit by his side.

_This one is going to be this flamboyant even the day he dies._

“Come, dine with me, my sons,” Odin announces.

Thor gives a look to his brother before sitting down next to Odin, mirroring Loki. The firewood burns around them in the many fireplaces that surround the royal family, lighting up the hall in a brilliant yellow hue. Even in the warmth, it is not strange for Loki to feel the coldness from one side- the side where Odin sits.

One move of his finger and the servants come in to serve the food at the table.

Thor is the first one to break through the ice forming around the three of them. “Loki, isn’t Y/N joining us for dinner tonight?”

Before Loki can say something in your defence, Odin breaks into the conversation.

“Speaking of Y/N, we had some really interesting conversations today.” Odin breaks the bone on the duck to grab the leg and drop it on his plate. “Quite the perception and direction this human has. The last time I was being challenged like this- about my ways of doing things- I was looking at the pointed edge of the sword.”

The potatoes and bread are laid down on the plate along with the duck before the wine glass is held in the wrinkled hands.

Thor clears his throat. “Father, I am sure whatever Y/N said, she did not mean to say anything against the king or the court.”

“Oh no!” Odin whips his head at Thor, “she did not. She was not talking to Odin the Allfather. She was talking to Odin the father of two sons. Now that I think about it, if it were someone else, I would have had them thrown in the dungeons by now.”

A chuckle rises from Loki’s side, which he tries to hide under his palm but clearly fails to do so. “My apologies,” he states, pressing his lips as tightly as he can, “please, do carry on.”

“Anyways,” Thor breaks the judgment both father and son are throwing at each other, “where is Y/N? I am sure she is _still_ a part of the family and can have dinner with us.”

“She will not be joining us tonight,” Odin declares, biting into the meat, “she has left the palace to fulfil the tradition of the new seed.”

Loki looks down at his plate with furrowed brows, not sure if he has the stomach for the duck on his plate staring right back at him. “Who is escorting her?”

Odin looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Sif is with her along with a handful of guards. Should not be a problem to reach the end of the river mountain by midnight.”

Everything is as normal as one would expect it to be at the table. At least for the next ten seconds.

“Wait,” Loki speaks as if coming out of a trance, “by the river mountain, you mean the mountain where the Nightweed grows.”

“Why, yes, of course,” Odin answers, his eye and fingers busy with the meat, “where else would she go to harvest the Nightweed? The mountains right at the edge of Vanaheim.”

The emotion that represents a question in those green eyes suddenly grows tens hues darker. The brows sitting heavy with a query suddenly seem to release themself with a realisation yet unknown to the audience.

And just when Loki thinks he must run, something inside him takes a fraction of that moment to look at his father; to put to rest this microscopic thread of suspicion pulling his heart. And when the better eye does not turn to meet his, the dark suspicions take roots inside his chest, forcing him to get up- throwing back his chair in the process- and walk hastily out the door, yelling at the guards to prepare his horse.

Thor stands at his place, confused, turns to look at Odin for answers before running behind his brother once he gets nothing from the former.

Odin sits there, alone in the large hall, by himself, looking down the echoing emptiness that surrounds him while he eats to his heart’s desire.

.

The silence of the forest seems to be invaded into by the song the little group has broken into. It is some old Nordic folk song that you have no clue about but that does not stop you from getting into the mix, singing the chorus whenever it comes up. You know you are louder than your usual self. You can already feel the buzz of the alcohol inside your head. And the lack of supper has added to it, making your head spin. Oh but the spin is good. Especially under a starry night like this, it is nothing less than magical.

Giggles, chuckles, all-out laughter- there is everything to experience in this small gathering with the stories being shared and you cannot but share how much you love all of them. Even your horse- whom you have already named Kiki, something that has been received with giggles bursting into outrageous laughter all around you.

"What? _What_??? I love the name Kiki, you royal ignorants! Kiki is so cute. Isn't it Kiki?"

Kiki huffs and continues to walk till you raise your hand and announce a temporary stop.

"Can we...can we stop? Please?"

Sif is the soberest of you all. But that does not mean she does not feel a little tingle in her body that is telling her to let herself a little loose. "Everything okay, Y/N?"

"Yeah, yeah," you assure her, giving her Kiki's rein while trying to find a way to get down, "I need to pee. Um...how do I get down from………...here."

Sybll narrows her eyes to look at you atop the horse, her head barely still on her palm. "Tell him you are ready to have kids. That's how my husband dropped me down."

All eyes are on Sybll, the chirp of the crickets being the only sound resonating around them. Sybll looks back at everyone, curling her palm in question.

"Do you want us to kill him for you?" Sif asks in a whisper while every other woman nods her head in solidarity.

A snicker leaves her first, followed by a chortle. "I was joking! It was a joke! I am not even married!"

"Oooh!" is followed by jabs and teasing comments at a jovial Sybll while Sif accompanies you behind a thicket of bushes.

"Keep an eye out, okay?" You ask the one lady who would do the job without even asking.

Sif gives you a salute before turning around as you get to business.

"I would have never imagined this is how I was going to spend my first day here in Asgard."

Sif chuckles before a snap of a twig somewhere in the forest catches her attention.

"Squabble in the morning, party in the night. Almost feels like home used to when I was a kid," you continue.

Sif is already ten steps into the direction where she heard the snap, feeling a movement from behind the shrubbery distinctly shining under the moonlight.

"But the most surprising thing was...Loki," you mutter, getting up and away, straightening your dress. "Never thought I would enjoy his company so much."

You pick out the little vial from your pack on the belt and take a drop on your palm before rubbing it between both your hands. _Asgardian hand sanitizer_.

"Sif, I think something's happening."

You sigh, scratching this uneasy itch at the back of your neck while looking up at the moon. "It's weird. But I think I'm feeling something for him."

A low hoot of an owl comes from somewhere behind you from the forest.

"I think-" you whisper into the night, not able to take your eyes away from the moon- "I think I might like-"

The end of the word does not leave your lips for they are covered by fabric with a dense foul smell. No matter how hard your panicking body tries to move away from that musty fabric, something strong holds it over your face. Something equally strong tightens around your waist to stop your squirming body from bringing any attention towards you.

And within the next twenty seconds, your movements grow weak enough for that force to pick you up and take you away from the comforting lamps lighting the happy faces waiting for you in the distance. Your lungs want to call out for help, but a heavy slumber seems to take over your eyes, blurring everything there is. A name is screamed into a void inside you, calling it for help before you drown in the void itself, dreaming of green eyes searching for you in this darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

The rough kisses of the wind under the light of the moon bring with it the song of nocturnal birds ready to take the night. Every little ecosystem of the witching hour is alive as the light brings forth a new day and a new adventure, bursting out into songs of the twilight; or their supper. Everything except for the God on the horse that zooms past them, interrupting their daily chores to look at him in curiosity for five seconds before going back to whatever it is they were doing.

For Loki, it is less of an adventure and more of a race against time. He knows firsthand the sensitive areas of the Asgardian mountains, especially the ones lying close to Vanaheim and Alfheim that are hiding the remnants of old enemies of the throne. Once the war was over, it was a given that the invaders from other galaxies who had set their claws in the weakest kingdoms would have to face the Asgardian forces to draw them away, and so they had fled in the darkness of the many nights to prevent being captured and exiled to their planets or worse, being left on a barren moon to fend for themselves. And it would not be any barren moon but one which the Silvertongue would choose specifically for their suffering.

One of the reasons Loki had travelled to the borders just a day after his wedding was to take care of the still weak defences of the kingdom. Several aliens who had surrendered because of their children and to prevent violence were assured a safe refuge and means to make an honest living by both the Princes. But the once who had fled with the motive to not negotiate for a mere living had full intentions of coming back with resources. Loki made sure that guards were stationed near the villages by the edge of the cities so as to prevent the fiends from pillaging the hard work of the innocent while at the same time, releasing the wild animals under the care of the crown- more precisely, his command- to make sure they kept the threat in check.

It had been hard for Loki to get up in the morning with you by his side, sleeping without a care in the world. He’d watched you snore, your lips parted and your sleep reasonably heavy after the week you had had, and questioned himself to have found you more mesmerising than any time before. He knew Thor could have handled the situation without him, but seeing you sleep next to him with your guard down brought an unknown sensation from somewhere deep inside him, unfurling like a whirlpool in the midst of an ocean. The sensation, the instinct to protect you- to watch you like this more often. After all, how many people in his life had he witnessed to trust him enough to tell him his brother was afraid of spiders.

And now as he is flying in the wind through the forest trail to reach you, Loki can only think about your safety. Well, that and the endless rant he would have to hear from Tony if something happens to you and he finds out about it.

If his memory of the lessons of the kingdom’s Geography serves him right, the Nightweed can only be found by the rivulets flowing from Vanaheim’s direction. That would mean the group would have to travel south-west to reach it a few hours before the crack of the dawn. And the trail he follows suggests his observation be correct.

Just a half an hour journey later he finds a soft glow of lanterns up ahead on the trail, his pounding heart feeling an unexplainable rush that makes his grip on the reins tighter as he directs his horse to reach it with full speed.

What he does not expect to see is Sybll being the only one sitting on the ground next to a few horses while a guard keeps a watch for anything out of the ordinary. The lines of worry on her face are visible in the glow of the white lanterns but the fear that creeps into her eyes when she sees Loki emerge from the darkness is no match for them.

“Your highness,” she breaks while trying to get up from the ground and bow her head in the presence of her Prince.

“Where is she?” is all he asks.

The answer does not come abruptly. Instead, Sybll’s eyes well up and her fingers torment the flesh of her arms till she has grounded herself to finally speak.

“She’s missing. Someone took her,” she winces.

.

The visit to the forest feels like a dream. The smell of the flowers of the night, the cool breeze caressing you with the frostiness it brought you from the nearest waterfalls and rivulets, the happy songs not holding much meaning for you, the laughs and cheers. Everything seems to be blurring into a sweet memory.

Till you remember the urgent need to pee that led to you losing consciousness. And with that one thought gathering amplitude inside your head, your eyes open wide while your head throbs, looking in every direction for Sif or Sybll or anyone else who is familiar. Instead, you lock eyes with a gross creature sitting at the entrance- of what seems like a tent- looking at you with utter disgust in his eyes and a wicked smile on his...well, whatever this orc has for lips.

That creature runs out of the tent before you can ask him anything and you take that time to look around for any clue as to where you are. One thing that does make sense is the seal on the grain sacks and chests kept in one corner which does not belong to any royal families you were introduced to on your wedding day.

_ Wait, my wedding day was yesterday. _

Just the thought of that fact gives you a headache.

Getting up from this quilt that you have been laid over, you feel the frost of the night over your exposed shoulders, really missing the cloak you'd kept on your horse when you dismounted it.

Steps sound outside the tent and you are obligated to turn towards the opening to see who is responsible for getting you unconscious and dragging you away from another Asgardian tradition.

Well, the master, or chief, looks nothing like the one he had stationed to guard you.

This one looks more like an elf with a backbone straighter than any protestant you would witness in a 'go away immigrants' rally. His golden hair falls till his hips, not a single strand out of its place; even when he walks towards you. For a second you really think he has walked in here by mistake till his yellow eyes start to observe you from head to toe.

_ Creepy elf. _

"Hm," he breathes out, his head held so high he has to look down at you even though he is barely two inches taller than you are, "I thought the prince of Asgard would do better than...this."

"Hm," you mock back, not acknowledging that petty insult with an answer. But you really cannot help it. "I'm sure if you had asked nicely he would have considered your hand in the marriage too..."

"Torbarik," he introduces himself, never breaking that stoic ego of his, "and I would rather eat dirt than marry that bastard," the elf creature purrs all the while unconsciously avoiding anything that would get his white robe with sparkly embellishments dirty.

"So...you would marry him," you state, narrowing your eyes in introspection at that guy who is clearly irritated now.

He takes a step towards you, enough to bend a little when he wants to stare you directly in the eye. "Your father in the name of the law promised us a place in the kingdoms before your husband-" he practically hisses the word in your face- "and his high and mighty brother took over the territories to make it their little playground and drive my people out."

As much as you want to pay attention to his words there is something else that bothers you on another level.

"I'm sorry," you finally blurt out, "I cannot concentrate on what you're saying with those two little hairs standing up on your head. Right there. Yeah. Near the forehead."

Torbarik moves his head back, like a little jolt he feels at the thought of someone pointing at his imperfections.

"Look, I don't know what Odin promised you," you shrug, "and whatnot. But I do know that whatever Loki and Thor and doing is probably for the best of all people involved."

“What is best for their interest,” Torbarik interrupts you, walking around the tent, his eyes looking around, his marble-like face expressionless, “that is how the royal family has always been. I claimed the lands of Alfheim with power-” he pauses in front of a small mirror hanging by the pole in the centre of the tent and checks himself and those loose hair strands you mentioned- “and no one can take that away from me.”

You have to pause and take a breath. Initially for clearing your head, mostly for keeping you from throwing words at him he might not recover from.

“And where do I come into this?” you finally ask. “I do not have a political standing in the Asgardian court if that is what you are going for.”

Torbarik feels a shift in lips, a slight smirk forming on them as he turns to face you with an eerie look in his eyes. “Oh, but you are the most vital piece of the court, your grace.”

You know he means to mock you when he addresses you that way, and that look of madness in his eyes is not helping. “You, the latest addition to the royal court, a...low blood but married into the royals, nonetheless, are the key to it all. You are what I will bargain for power in these lands, my dear.”

_ So, he is insane _ , your inner voice shouts in a mad fit of hysterical laughter while you scoff at him. “And what makes you think anyone will negotiate with you? What makes you think  _ Odin  _ will negotiate for my life? Like you said, I’m just a human.”

For the first time that night, you watch Torbarik smile the broadest smile, revealing those unresting sharp white teeth. What is worse is his steps towards you, not halting till he has you pinned into the tent’s wall with his body, not even giving you much space to breathe.

“Oh, but not just any human,” he sings, his dirty-nailed fingers running lazily over your jaw, “you are the human who could bring havoc to Asgard with one simple scratch. Or maybe a broken bone. Or worse....your death.”

The nail from his index finger goes down the jaw, over your neck, deeper than before, definitely scratching something. “Imagine the destruction,” he whispers into your ear, sending uneasiness crawling down your skin, “when your family on earth finds out about something happening to you. The war they are going to wage. Bringing Hel on this land Odin is so proud of. And all-” his fingers wrap you by the throat, not yet turning it into a grip- “because Odin or his sons could not protect you.”

Even in the chill sweeping from outside on your feet, your back feels sweat trickle down while your heart tries its best to maintain a survivable pace.

“Loki would see this coming a mile away. Do you really think you stand a chance in front of hi-”

The grip tightens around your throat. You can feel the nails digging into your skin. “Oh, I  _ want  _ him to see this coming. I  _ want  _ him to know there will be blood if he does not agree with my terms. Even if your life means nothing to him, he will pay the price for it.”

It is not as much the words but the thoughts they conceive in your mind. Restless, unnerving thoughts. Thoughts of what weight do you exactly carry for Loki. Do you even carry some significance for him? Or are you just another peace treaty that was done and dusted?

Your heart feels a pain rush into it as quickly as you try to hide it on the outside.

“My husband does not negotiate with a terrorist. And you are a fool if you think he will not find a way through this web you think you are spinning for him.”

Torbarik breaks into laughter that chills your veins. Your skin feels something sticky where his nails are digging into your skin. “I would like to see him try.”

.

“...and by the time I came back to where I had left here, she was gone.”

The defeated sigh that leaves Sif’s lungs hurts her more than anyone for not being able to do the one thing she was meant to be doing.

“It’s not your fault, Sif,” Loki is quick to point out, knowing that look in her eyes well enough to know where her thoughts are spiralling right now. “Whoever took her must have been following you for some time to know when to strike. Are all the handmaidens accounted for?”

Sif nods, looking over his shoulder to watch them stand huddled together by the horses.

“Okay, here is what we will do-”

“Loki,” Sif interrupts the God before he can put a plan in action, “I can find her. Let me find her.”

Loki blinks. “Of course you will. You are the best asset we have right now. Baldur can take the handmaidens back to the palace. We have a lot of ground to cover so-”

“Pardon us, your highness,” Sybll’s voice stops Loki to make both the warriors turn around and face her form that is barely keeping it together underneath the tightly held cloak, “but we would like to be a part of the search too. We cannot go back to the palace when the Princess might be in danger right now. Please, we have been taught how to defend ourselves by the Queen. Let us be of some help as well.”

Loki has to pause and look at the eager faces standing their ground to do as much as possible. He turns to Sif for an opinion and she silently agrees with the lot.

A sigh escapes his nostrils in the form of visible air in this night getting colder by the minute.

“Fine,” he finally agrees, allowing the handmaidens to breathe easy, “but not without security.”

Loki gets down on one knee to touch the soil with his palm, reciting an ancient spell that reverberates through the land of the forest- its epicentre where Loki stands- with visible green and golden waves rolling right on the dust. Just as the recitation stops and his hand leaves the soil, everything goes silent; not even the owls hoot nor does a leaf.

And then Sif sees them. At the top of the nearest hill. Golden orbs- too many- in pairs, looking down at them, as if floating in their direction. The fear of the unknown takes root in a corner of her heart right before the moonlight shines on them.

Sif feels a touch on her shoulder and turns her head just enough to witness Loki’s hand shifting her and every other lady’s armour in something as black and as the night.

“Search for my wife,” Loki announces with a subtle hint of something dark without ever raising his voice- changing into a battle-ready black armour- and summoning his sword, “and they will take care of the rest.”


	5. Chapter 5

"You do realise I am being kept alive for negotiations. So, it wouldn't kill to give me a cloak at the very least! I am freezing here!"

"Then why did you rip your skirt apart!"

"Are you kidding me?! Can you not see my legs?!!! They cannot handle the itchy fabric, you dumbfuck! Look at all the redness! Now get me a goddamn cloak!"

The stubborn stares go on till the guard decides to give up and get out of the tent for five minutes of silence. "Do not run because we will-"

"Do I look like I am in shape to run? DO I?!!"

The orc gurgles in irritation before stomping out and you get down to work.

It was not easy to tear into the fabric with the hidden knife strapped to your thigh. But once the first slit was made, the ripping was easy. Something you had learned while hanging out with Sybll was the sturdiness of the Vanaheim fabric that you were wearing. It has three layers. The first one being cotton harvested in the local fields that lets the legs breathe. The third and the innermost one is the silk woven by the silkworms cultivated by the royalty. But the second layer is the most interesting one. This used thin stretchable threads to wire a protective sheath around the cotton and thus the body. The thread work is done almost like body armour, loose enough to breathe in, tight enough to leave no room for error. But there is another thing about these threads that is the most crucial thing to getting you out of here. They have high tensile strength.

Your hands have already got to work to get those threads apart. Surprisingly it is easy to do so once you realise it is all one huge strand going about. It is hard to slash it into multiple pieces but your knife seemed to have done half the job for you. One end of the strands go to the end of every lamp and candle- even the oil lamps- in the tent, tied together by the other end to meet one thread that you tie around your fingers just when the orc enters the tent.

You are quick to straighten your back and look down on him. “Well?”

“Master says you can survive the night. If you don’t he’ll get you a coat.”

_ Son of a- _

“Okay,” you shrug, getting up and picking the remnants of your dress in your hand before walking towards the opening of the tent, “come on then.”

“You are not going anywhere, missy,” the ugly creature growls, trying to stop you by placing his arm in between you and the path to the opening.

“Thanks to your master, now I have to pee because of the cold. And trust me this won’t be the first time I do it tonight.”

The orc has a shade of confusion and fear colouring his face that is followed by hues of hesitation. “Unless you want the tent to reek of piss,” you add, making it easier for the orc to huff and growl before walking in front of you.

Wrapping the remnant of you the poofy part of your dress around your shoulders, hiding the string in your hands that are thin and transparent enough to not be seen.

The cold air outside brings some relief along with a pit of anxiety in your stomach as you watch many more orcs sitting around the fire while many other armoured ones roam about other tents, growling, gambling, drinking and causing as much of a ruckus as they could. 

A couple of wild eyes look at you from one corner or another, forcing you to tuck the ripped fabric closer to you. Some try to stand in your way and watch as you squeeze through whatever narrow passageway they leave for you, all the while letting you curl a few more strings by the poles that housed the burning torches.

A couple more tedious steps and a racing heartbeat, and you are by the edge of the forest, searching for a good vantage point.

"Don't go too far. I  _ will _ catch you," the orc grunts at you. 

You give him a stink eye before taking a few more steps uphill within the trees. "Keep an eye out for any perverts or animals," you order the creature, who in turn scoffs and spits on the ground.

"Great. I would rather be eaten by a wild boar than be kept prisoner," you mutter loud enough for the orc to hear and scratch his bald head, ponder upon it and then turn around in disgruntled annoyance.

The moment his gaze has averted, you drop the fabric from around you and pick up the mess of the threads. It is a miracle that none of the connections seems to have broken yet. 

Okay, here goes nothing.

Wrapping the bunch around your palm, you gather enough air in your lungs and yank the strings running down towards the tents, trying your best not to grunt or scream in agony the threads put on your palm.

There is some movement. And then there is a faint sound of something snapping. What follows is a ball of fire going up in the air where you were being held against your will. And yelling. Lots of yelling.

Gradually the fire is being seen in more tents, orcs and white elves running around trying to make sense of the mayhem.

The orc that has accompanied you watches the fire, a layer of a certain fear building in his eyes. He starts to turn around but is stopped with a dagger to his throat.

_ One blow to the throat and then make sure you take the weapon out. Let them bleed to death _ . Just like Natasha taught you. You hesitate to take the dagger out but are promoted to do so- with a light scream- when the orc tries to claw into your arm, bringing his own death unto himself faster.

It is disgusting; the gargling, the trembling body that collapses on the ground, the failed attempt of him reaching out for you with eyes that are about to pop out while he drowns in his own blood. It is disgusting but you cannot seem to take your eyes off the helpless figure of that creature. With zero ideas about what your subconscious is thinking, a step is taken towards the writhing body till you can hear cries coming closer to the edge of the forest, forcing you to come out the trance and run into the deep for your life.

.

Sybll does not see it coming. The orcs or their attacks. She knows she isn't alone in the forest but she does not realise it will be the orcs that she will run into while searching for Y/N.

No words are exchanged. No greetings or warnings. Just the exposed dirty fangs of the emotionless creatures bared at her as she tries a protection spell. It does work, but only against the first attack. She knows the only option she now has is to run.

_ Oh, spirits of the forest, help me! _

It does not take much time for them to catch up to her, surrounding her to play with her before they can feast on her in whatever sense they want to.

The first orc to step towards her- while the others howl and hoot with a sense of victory- disappears with a black whirlwind that comes and goes in the blink of an eye.

It confuses the orcs, making them look all around them before one of them tries to go for Sybll. This time too, the black whirlwind comes and takes this one. Now, the fear in those yellow eyes is real. The fear of the unknown striking from the darkness.

But it doesn't take a while for them to witness the golden eyes glimmering in the darkness at them, seemingly floating in the black as it watches them, their every step, every little ounce of fear trickling down their murky bodies.

The strikes happen without a warning. Before she can blink, the orcs are gone. All that is left of them is an arm dumped at her feet.

She never sees it coming. The predator or the prey.

.

It is getting harder to breathe. The running and the fear that is burning you inside out are not working too well with your tired limbs. It is hard to suppress the clamorous breathing when you hide yourself behind a tree. The cacophony of the party searching for you comes and goes from a distance, adding certain minutes to your life. It is a boon that the moonlight cannot reach down to the ground in here, making it easier for you to hide or walk about without being seen. What your frail little heart does not contemplate is that the enemy has thought of the same.

Once the silence seems to have returned around you, you get up and make your way towards the edge of the cliff where the moonlight seems to be filtering through the leaves and trees.  _ Need to find a way back. Need to find a way back. Oh, Gods, I hope Sif and the others are okay. I’m sure they’re okay. This idiot just wanted me. Yeah, yeah, they are definitely okay. Didn’t see them back at that camp so- _

A snap of a twig sounds somewhere behind you just when you reach in the clearing, realising the vulnerability as the moon makes your skin glimmer under its borrowed light.

“I love the attempt, my dear,” Torbarik’s voice comes from the edge of the forest before he steps into the light, “but you should have thought this through.”

Six elves just like him, three on either side come out behind him, their weapons thirsting for some blood in those itchy hands.

“I did, actually, think this through.” You did not. “Either I reach back to my family safely or you, Torbarik, will die by their hands when they come for blood for my death.”

Torbarik’s thick brows rise a little in mild surprise, his eyes moving between you and the thousand feet deep valley behind you. “Do you really want to kill yourself?” he mocks you, chuckling at your futile attempt to threaten him.

“I would rather die than live in your-”

“Is that how badly you want to get out of your marriage?”

That hits a nerve.

“Excuse me? This has nothing to do with my marriage.”

“Did he chuck you out of his room on your wedding night?” the elf guffaws and his men follow suit, rubbing you in all the wrong ways.

The fear that his elf had been inculcating inside you till now seems to be fading away as something else is starting to take place. Rage, probably.

“Stop it.”

“Is that what you said when he tried to have his way with you?” The laughter that follows itches every part of your brain.

You do not utter a word till they are done holding their stomachs. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?”

You do not blink and Torbarik, for the first time that night sees something feral shine from inside your eyes. “Say another word about Loki from your maggot-filled mouth and I will personally cut your tongue and feed it to you before slicing your throat and driving a blade right through your skull.”

They try to chuckle at the threat but the perilous aura surrounding you makes it difficult to do so.

Torbarik smiles and takes a step towards you, closing the distance enough for him to run a finger on your cheek. He does not show it but he can feel his insides tremble when you do not so much as change the pattern of your breathing on his touch.

“Turn a smidge more ferocious and I might start to do things to you that I have been thinking about for a while my dear,” he whispers to you.

It is hard to keep up the rock-like facade but you are lucky to be interrupted by a voice from the edge of the trees.

“Stop!”

All eyes turn to the voice, not being able to handle the shock to see you stand there.

“What in the nine circles of Hel?!” Torbarik is shifting his gaze between you next to him and you standing close to his guards. “Guards!” he yells at the elves to capture the one that just came out of the forest while you are stepping away from this one as your brain tries to take in your doppelganger.

The guards barely get close to her when they are thrown back into the clearing by huge black clouds growling and snarling at them.

_ Wolves! _

With their teeth bared and their golden eyes sharp at their prey, they have their claws dug in the ground, waiting for something.

_ Oh. Oh, Gods. Oh my- _

The doppelganger looks right at you and gives you a knowing smirk before softly declaring, “Árás,” and breaking all Hel loose.

The wolves jump at their prey. Agonising screams and cries fill the night and Torbarik watches with a newfound fear the end of his greatest men, his mouth agape, his skin whiter than it was before.

That is when he watches- from the corner of his eyes- your figure starting to run in the direction where your mirror image stands, giving in to his impulse and catching hold you buy your waist, before restraining you with a hand around your neck and the other arm around your torso.

“Let me through or she dies!” It is yelled more like a command than a request, of course.

The doppelganger takes a step in your direction. You can feel Torbarik’s erratic pulse in his hold around you when he pulls you a step back towards the edge of the cliff with him.

She steps, watching him before turning to you.

“I think,” she starts, looking down at your legs before catching your eyes again, “you do not realise how dangerous she is, Torbarik.”

And then it hits you.

Struggling with one hand, you use the other to fish underneath your dress, going for your thigh holster and feeling the cold hilt of your blade under your fingers.

The next bit happens in a flash. The distracted elf never sees the rage-filled stab coming for his thigh and ends up screaming. The pain loosens his grip on you, allowing you to stab back right by his lower rib cage and stepping away from him.

Even in the agony, his curses at you do not stop but for the moment in which green and yellow glow emanate from your doppelganger and in her stead stands Loki.

Torbarik is on the ground now, bleeding as he looks up in shock at Loki.

“Loki, my Prince,” he utters, wincing through the pain while trying to crawl towards the God, “I think there *grunts* might have been a mis-*inhales*- misunderstanding.”

Loki watches the elf with a blank expression before turning his head to watch you. Within a few steps, he is standing in front of you, looking down at your face, taking in every little scare and every bruise that has started to form. You can feel his gaze on every wound and spots of dried blood on you, unsure what he was going to do.

Loki’s hands are in the air around you as a black fur coat appears in his grasp that is wrapped around your trembling frame, restoring some warmth within an instant.

He does not shift his stance, but he does turn to look at Torbarik hiding a knife while trying to make his way to Loki.

“You hurt my wife,” Loki declares into the wind that has started to blow, “there is nothing we can work around now.”

With that declaration, he whistles, and the wolves come back already hungry for some more violence.

“Loki, n-no,” Torbarik stammers at the sight of the fanged beasts slowly making their way towards him, “we can have a t-truce!”

“ _ Taka hann í burtu _ ,” Loki announces to the wolves, stopping Torbarik’s heart.

Torbarik begs for mercy as the wolves drag him into the forest by his legs, the sounds going away with them; for good.

Once the silence resumes, Loki turns back to look at you. The wind is bringing with the smell of moist soil from a place that seems to have witnessed fresh showers. He does not realise soon enough that you are still in a little shock, looking at him to make sure he really is standing there.

“Y/N,” he finally speaks, “are you all right?”

The pent up emotions have no place for a release but the eyes. And so they rise up with the moisture, waiting on the edge to fall at a moment’s notice.

“You came.” Your voice trembles and it scares you that it does, forcing you to take in as much air as you can.

“Why would I not?” he is surprised. “Did you have doubts?”

You stop breathing, going blank for a few seconds. “A little?”

All he does is smile, giving you soft eyes. “Come on, let’s get you back to the pal-”

“You’re wearing black. Is this a stealth suit of sorts? Is that a braid? In your hair?”

Your voice is soft and filled with curiosity. Loki realises you have never seen him in this attire before. Neither have you seen those braids in his hair.

“Yes. And yes,” he answers patiently, not realising how much he is liking this.

“I like it,” you reply, your eyes still stuck on his braid running from one side of his head down the length of his hair, “it looks really nice.”

Your voice says that but your face somehow feels it is in pain. And just as Loki is about to ask you, he feels his body jerk back a little when you step in to wrap your arms around his torso.

You do not know if he approves of this, but you do know that you need this right now. Just a few seconds till your body calms down and regains some sense. And the will to walk without any breakdowns that you are not made aware of beforehand.

It is a need for you but it is a confusing surprise for Loki. He does not remember the last time he was hugged. He is sure it must have been Frigga on the other end some ages ago though any memories of that love are nothing but a blur. He has never had a touch stop his breath like it does today. And this? Your gesture of embracing him as tightly as you can, leaning on him for some sort of comfort after being chased by danger sends his conscience into a slow whirlpool of its own. That whirlpool, instead of sucking something in, seems to bring out this unexplainable warmth in his chest that he has never felt before. How could he? He has not been hugged like this before. And so, the God of Mischief is left speechless, standing at the edge of the world with a human, making him do the one thing for which he cannot give himself a rational explanation.

He wraps his arms around you, hugging you back; feeling the glow in his chest grow denser and brighter by the second. His hand rests on your head, caressing it, feeling lighter just by that action. At that moment he knows.

He knows what is the one thing he is going to care for till the end of his life.


	6. Chapter 6

Eyes closed. Candles lit. Incense burning. Body soaked.

Everything inside you wants to drown in this bliss after the nightmare. Everything does. The incense from the garden of healers is working its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream, latching onto that which does not belong there; forcing it to give up and be out of your system after eighteen hours. The cold water filled with the flowers from Yggdrasil to the brim is tingling every wound and bruise. Well, except the ones on your neck and around your shoulders.

It is relaxing. It should be relaxing. That is what your mind keeps running in a loop instead of enjoying the way Asgard is taking care of you right now. But the continuous throbbing of your brain for apparently no reason is not making anything work.

_ Why are you so on edge right now? _ Your inner voice would shake you till your brains feel off if it could.

_ I don’t know _ . Your heart keeps jumping now and then; that poor thing is not sure what it is running to or away from.  _ I don’t know. _

It is frustrating to keep looking at the night sky outside while unconsciously scratching your head for answers that it cannot give you.  _ I don’t know. _

“May I be of some help?”

The siren voice soaked completely in the purest honey in the world comes from the archway leading to your bedroom. Your body turns in the tub to watch the source, creating ripples where you sit.  _ It is him _ , your heart says as Loki stands there, leaning on the wall in that black shirt and black pajamas.

_ Of course, it’s him _ , your inner voice lets out a tired sigh before going quiet for a minute only to come back with a whisper resonating inside your head,  _ your husband _ .

“Hmm?” is all you can muster while trying to force this unforeseeable lump inside your throat down. Loki parts his lips and looks down at something on the floor.  _ His feet are naked _ , that lump in your throat grows a little.  _ Great observation _ , your inner voice replies with a hint of sarcasm. “You have been struggling with that itch for quite a while. How about I help you with that,” he breathes with a tilt of his head, and the candlelight hits the pupils just perfectly for you to see the glow in those gentle eyes.

It does take some time for your brain to process that you are not breathing. It takes a little longer to realise that he has been standing there watching you scratch your head like some wild animal for quite some time.  _ Very smooth, Y/N. _

“Uh, it’s fine. I’ll shampoo it and it’ll be aww-aahh-”

Your right arm disagrees the moment you try to lift it up.  _ You weren’t even hit, you stupid limb! _

Loki is already taking patient steps towards the tub while the embarrassment is heating up your body, and this wonderful cold water. “It never hurts to have a working hand,” he states and your brain instantly deep dives into the endless oceans for the lit-up notorious corners imagining what all those hands can do.

You scooch a little inside the tub.  _ Can he read my thoughts? Oh, Gods, I hope not.  _ While you are trying to hide the hot thoughts of your vibrating brain, your left hand is undoing the knot of your hair; a gesture that welcomes Loki to draw a stool behind you, grounding his feet on either side of the subsection of the tub storing water just for the purpose of washing those beaten up locks.

Cold hands gather those Y/H/C tresses and push them away from you and into the sink section of the tub. Those frosty fingers come back to gather whatever is left; brisking by your neck, teasing your shoulders, marking your forehead, tantalising your temples, taunting your ears. And you can do nothing but let the tiniest touch of his fingers fire up your nerve endings.

“Rest your head here,” his voice whispers. With that low pitch, your body is ready to do anything it asks of you. Anything.

You feel his hands steadily undoing the knots in your hair. Slow and patient with his movements, he has made sure he has got all of them before your ears hear him dunking something into the water and pouring the cold elixir on your head. His hand is steady; so is the trail of water that trickles down from your temples into your head, making its way through the marred strands, doing its best to take the muck down with it before another wave comes. And with every wave, Loki’s palm rests on your forehead to stop that water from going anywhere it is not supposed to; gently pressing back into your head, feeling like his palm is taking with it all the burdens and horrors of the night that are weighing upon your soul.

Once the weight is all in the wet tresses, Loki turns to grab the shampoo- that Sybll was kind enough to leave for you- but stops to reach for the concoction he uses. Taking a generous amount in his palms, he mixes enough drops of water for it to start forming a lather. Once he is satisfied, he comes for your hair, starting with your head, smearing the product in every nook and corner, around the ears and on the back of your neck. Once he feels he has covered everything, he gets ready to get to work, never even letting you sense the high you are about to ride.

The fingers dig past the hair to make contact with the scalp and start a symphony with the skin as they massage every micron of skin they touch. You can feel your eyes turn back into your head at the perfect pressure they are putting onto your mess of a head; pressing into the pain, hurt, anxiety, mixed feelings, and releasing them all with the release of these cold little magic wands. Every press and release is a gush of serotonin just washing all over your existence; every wiggle of those fingers is a newfound lightness you never thought you could feel. In the midst of floating in a clear blue ocean of release, you do not expect a moan to escape your parted lips. And just as it does, you feel your body falling headfirst, realising the cruelty of gravity and jerking awake just as your moan registers in your hypnotised brain cells. Your hands catch hold of the edge of the tub and the water ripples at the sudden jolt.

“Everything okay?” Loki’s voice comes from behind you just as his hands stop moving in your hair.

“Yeah-” you clear your throat and shush your heartbeat to slow down- “yes.”

_ Don’t stop, please. _

Every single strand receives the love and care it deserves; to the point that they are sure to question if you actually ever cared for them. So tender are his movements that three questions run inside your mind.

The first question- how can someone so soft ever have the heart to hurt anyone? The past of your world speaks of evils this God had brought to earth. In fact, it speaks it louder than the time when the same God was the one to bring down the threats that would have ended your planet once and for all.  _ We all have our reasons to be manipulated by the darkness at some point in our life. I am a living breathing example of one. _

The second question- how utterly vivid your imagination had to be to imagine what those very tender movements of his hands feel like on your naked skin? The mystery that was his supple touch, chasing the goosebumps on your body. How enticing was the mere thought?

The third question…………what was the third question?

Washed with the same scrutiny as they were lathered, Loki pats the water off before leaving the room to give you privacy.

Clean and dried, you take one of the green bathrobes to wrap around yourself and walk out into the bedroom where Loki stands stirring something in a small bowl. “Oh,” you cannot keep the mild surprise in, mostly because every ounce of the insignificant has escaped your body now, “I thought you would be asleep by now.”

“Not yet,” he answers quite seriously, his eyes on the bowl for a few more moments till they rise to look at you; and get stuck on you. You do not know what those eyes are seeing. Of course, you cannot comprehend the image- of something beautiful right out of a textbook- that you are for Loki in this slowed-down moment. The glowing delicacy shining still from the pollen of the flowers working on your skin, the wet hair strands teasing him of the closeness he has yet to feel; all of it wrapped up in green with one single knot. Oh, the prayers he feels coming out of him to be permitted to unravel that knot and bow down to worship you.

“What is that?”

Your voice brings him back to the bowl in his hand. He has to let his eyes adjust to the reality he stands in so as to come up with a reply in time. “It’s for your wounds. Here, sit down.”

You do. The copper bowl contains a muddy mixture with a pasty consistency. The handy mixer that seems smaller than it is in Loki’s long pale fingers is kept aside on the side table and his fingers dig themselves into the concoction. His eyes turn to you. “Your shoulders,” he requests. With the brilliance his pupils reflect, you can swear you would have given him your heart if he asked just as sweetly. And so you turn to the other side to sit with your robe slipped just above your chest, giving him all the exposed wounds the water could not get to as much.

The fresh red bruises along with the open scars marred from Torbarik’s bad etiquettes sink Loki’s heart a little. Now, he wishes he had ended his life with his own hands. It itches his chest deep inside to know how much it must be hurting you right now; given your inability to heal as fast as the Asgardians or frost giants.

“Thank you, Loki-” you bring him out of the slow train of overthinking misery is about to step on inside his head- “for coming for me.”

Loki’s fingers tenderly dab the paste over the wounds, instantly bringing a soothing cold fire over the cuts. “You are my wife, love. You should expect anything less than coming to your aid from me.”

_ You are my wife, love. _

Your throat can visibly be seen sucking in as much air as it can to make sure you heard him right. Once your mind settles that this is in fact what Loki just declared, your brain cannot help but run those soothing words in a loop inside your head till they seep into every cell in your body, making that truth a part of your existence. And soon enough, parts of you are getting heated from the sudden confession. Your cheeks and the back of your neck are doing a really bad job of hiding the flush from his words. And on top of that, those fingers are doing one hell of a job, soothingly rubbing themselves on your shoulders and neck.

“Just two minutes and then it will dry and fall off. The wounds will close but the bruises will take some time to go away as per my observation.”

He has barely finished the sentence and you are already shifting in your place to turn and face him. He can see you have something on your mind that you want to speak and so, he puts away everything and sits there patiently for you to take your time to gather your words.

“Loki-” he darts a quick look to your nails digging into your knees- “you don’t...you don’t have to do...umm…-” your voice lowers to a whisper- “how do I put this-” you straighten your back and close your hands into a fist before looking him into those beautiful hypnotising eyes- “you don’t have to do anything you don’t really...feel. What you do not want to...do? Uhh...it’s just that...okay. Ahem. Because I am...I...oh my God-”

“I like you too.”

The white noise humming through your eyes feels like you have lost your ability to hear. The sudden roller coaster rush that your heart feels makes it want to save you from whatever height you are falling right now. You do not see it but the mere dilation of those starry y/e/c eyes at those words washes away any doubts Loki has of you not reciprocating his feelings. The fresh flush of heat emanating from your cheeks and the surprise-filled blink adds to the euphoria. “...you do?” you hushed voice cannot rise beyond this or you might start crying.

His smile is the response. The love in filling his eyes to the brim; something you have never seen before, not even for Thor. His hand moves to let his fingers caress your cheek. And oh! The cold touch of the back of his fingers with your hot cheeks is nothing short of the blessed fountain satiating the thirst of a traveller looking for eternal youth. Your eyes close on his touch, your head tilting, giving into his brush. “I have always liked you, Y/N,” Loki asserts softly, his hand embracing you while his thumb grazed your cheek, “today you just resonated my feelings and made me fall in love with you.”

Your hand rises to engulf his into yours. Like a heavyweight lifted from your chest, you feel your body breathe again. Your foreheads meet, exchanging what feels like a lifetime of unspoken feelings. They were there for quite a while; it just took them a brush with danger to surface and show their colours- their strength and their weakness- all in one night.

This is the first time you are so close to him, being able to witness all the perfection that is Loki, the God, the strategist, the Silvertongue. Yours. All yours. His lips parted, his cold breath a verse teasing your lips. His dark lush eyelashes heavy with a newfound need, hiding it in those eyes gone dark. His tongue licking his lips, waiting for your approval even though you are right in his reach. Your fingers, with a mind of their own, touch his chin, wanting to travel to his lips, feel them, want them. The craving is making your stomach turn, your breaths shallow and length apart till it is unbearable. You close that inch of space to let your love-deprived lips land on his, hesitant at the gesture. But Loki welcomes it. The first sweet kiss bursting lights inside the both of you. And with the first, the urge for the second grows. His tongue tastes your lips, and you let it enter; you let it discover every edge needy for his touch. Your tongue plays with his, lets him know how much you want it; how much you want him. So do your hands. Running over his chest, they find their way to his neck and hair. His, on the other hand, draw you closer to him- one by the waist, the other supporting your neck- carefully so as not to hurt your still-healing wounds- while pulling you further into him.

There is a mellifluous clash of your bodies that night, hands discovering each other, heat siphoned by the cold, love pouring in tender kisses over the bare skin, fingers entangled in hairs, pleading for more. Hips crashing into each other like lazy tides under the pleasant moonlight on a deserted shore, moans filling the ears, satiating the hunger of giving the satisfaction to their lover, breaths both hot and cold creating such wondrous mist in the midst of that steaming love-making. The fulfilling rise to the high, the tides reaching the rocky shores, wanting more to come crashing with thunderous vibrations. And thunderous they are, making you see rainbows in the back of your head. The best part is that love does not stop at discovering the bodies. It continues, with the willingness to take care of you, with pulling the duvet over your body and gathering you in his surprisingly strong arms, with that sweet longing and deep kiss on your forehead, and then your nose and then your lips, telling you that he is yours. All yours. For eternity.

.

“What’s happening? Sybll handed me the sparkliest dress in whatever wardrobe this appeared from and said it was urgent. Is this another one of Odin’s tradition things?”

Loki is already walking towards you as fast as he can. And while he does, you notice a blue bruise on his neck which you are pretty you did not mark him with.  _ We were so gentle! I couldn’t have. Could I?  _

“What’s that on your neck?” you cannot help yourself.

“Yes,” Loki nods, “this is-”

“Y/N,” Thor calls for you from the halls, “you are here. Look who is here to meet you!”

Your eyes are wide and already turning to Loki for answers, who is drawing in a loooong breath. “Yes, this is what I was talking about. The bruise is also for...this. Come on, let’s go meet your self-declared father.”

You don’t even have to guess who Loki is talking about, for that very moment you enter the great hall, Tony walking with his arms open to embrace you.

“How are you doing, kid? These Asgardians treating you well?”

His hug is more than welcome and you throw yourself into it. Oh, and he smells like home. Tom Ford cologne and Quinnjet- just like you remember. “Tony, it is so good to see you.” Your lips cannot stop smiling and the smile turns even wider on seeing Rhodey and Carol standing behind him.

Rhodey’s bear hug still has the same power to cure your homesickness while Carol’s embrace just tells you she is here for you now and whenever.

“Loki.”

“Stark.”

They still greet each other the same way- a simple nod and...that’s it. Same goes for Rhodey. Carol, on the other hand, has a special fistbump for her partner in galactic crimes of justice. “You still owe me one artefact from your vault, Loco,” Carol mentions, making Loki chortle.

“You still owe me a decent fight.”

“Bullshit. I cleaned the floor with your face last time, you trickster.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot hear you over the sound of my undefeated title.”

“Oh, okay okay okay. It’s on, Loki boy. It is on!”

“Before anything is on,” you interrupt, “how about we go have a drink. Or two.”

“Yes, I love that,” Thor smacks you in the back, forcing you to swallow the grunt politely as you lead the way.

Asgards finest wine and beer are being served and you cannot help but notice Thor eyeing you and Loki with certain veiled judgement while conversations are made around the table. You let it slide, hoping it’s Tony being Tony.

“Isn’t that right, Stark,” Thor laughs and looks at him.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Tony replies with disinterest, his eyes stuck on you, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I  _ have  _ to ask. What is that bruise on your neck?”

The whole table goes silent. Loki’s drink is paused right by his lips while Carol sips hers with peak interest while shifting her curious gaze between Loki and you.

“It’s nothing,” you respond lightly with a shake of your head, wanting the conversation to go back to whatever it was.

“We tried to get the same tattoos,” Loki adds, “it did not work so I removed it in my Asgardian ways. The bruises are nothing. They’ll vanish within two more days.”

You nod a liiiittle vigorously in agreement, making Tony narrow his eyes in suspicion. “I don’t buy it. Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. I need to know that you are safe.”

Thor looks at the two of you. You know it will be difficult to make Tony understand your safety concerns. Even if you are safe here now, he will see it as nothing else but an excuse to take you away from here. And even take Loki with you if that’s what it takes. Or worse, he might actually start a war with the enemies here. You know of at least five people who would agree to this and stand on the front lines of that very fight.  


“Tony it’s nothing,” you try to convince him.

“Y/N. What. Happened.”

Thor is about to open his mouth when you do the most outrageous thing you could think of.

“Loki and I tried some stuff, okay!” you nearly yell.

At this point, everyone is looking at you with more questions in their eyes. Even Loki.

“We experimented with BDSM,” you finally blurt out, keeping your head high, “and I liked it.”

Silence.

Carol’s silence is a victorious one; like she was waiting to hear this. Rhodey’s is more uncomfortable and you know he just wants to get up and go from there before hearing any more details about this. Loki’s silence is on the lines of appreciative surprise towards you. He is impressed. And at the same time getting some ideas.

And Tony?

His beer glass shatters in his hand. That pretty much answers it.

“W-what is beady-essum?” Thor is the only one sitting there in confusion while Carol is the only soul who guffaws through the thrilling silence.

“YESSS! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU TWO WERE SMUSHING BOOTIES!!”


End file.
